StormWatch: Antibodies 3/?
by DuAnn Cowart
Summary: Other parts of the Multiverse are affected by the infection in the Bleed


  
  


All characters contained herein belong to either Image or 

Wildstorm/DC. I am deriving no pecuniary benefit from the 

use of these characters. See previous chapters for full 

disclaimers.   
  


Additionally, this is my first attempt with these 

characters. A thousand pardons if I err in characterization 

or continuity, for I'm basing this chapter on three TPBs 

and one sole comic. As for any of the obvious continuity 

issues this chapter may provoke- well, the multiverse is a 

strange and wonderful thing, as we'll see more of later.   
  


This story is rated PG-13 for language and references to 

violence and adult situations.   
  
  
  


StormWatch: Antibodies 3/??   
  
  
  
  
  


Somewhere, somewhen else:   
  
  
  


"Mmmmmmmmm, that was nice." Lauren Pennington sighed 

happily, savoring the delicious sensations coursing through 

her body. After several long moments, her toes slowly 

uncurled and she indulged herself in a skin-tinglingly 

luxuriant stretch.   
  


"Mmmm hmmmm. Bloody *great*. Now sleep," the man beside her 

murmured. Face half-buried in a large pillow, his broad 

chest was already beginning to gently rise and fall with 

the first of what promised to be hours of prodigiously loud 

snores.   
  


Lauren propped herself upon on one elbow. She studied him a 

few moments, then lowered her lips to his ear and whispered 

in a wheedling tone. "C'mon, get up, Nigel..."   
  


"Don't wanna," Nigel Keane protested sleepily, pulling a 

pillow over his head. "Lauren, please, I'm beggin' yeh. I'm 

an old man, I am, an' I need muh rest..."   
  


One bouncy lock of curly red hair fell across her face, 

neatly dividing her vision. "Ni-gel, we can sleep when 

we're dead." She smiled brightly, and emerald eyes twinkled 

mischeviously. "Let's do it again."   
  


He sat up abruptly, and pale green limbs caught in tangled 

blue sheets. He threw the pillow aside, sputtering. "Again? 

Are yeh tryin' to kill me, woman?"   
  


She moved towards him, lips stained with the remnants of 

smeared lipstick curved upward in a wicked smile. "Don't 

*make* me get the cowboy hat..."   
  


He paused for a moment, considering, then shifted his 

weight to his hip, moving atop her in one smooth fluid 

motion. Green hands gently pinned her wrists to the bed, 

and he grinned rakishly. "Well, when yeh put it like 

*that*..."   
  


Delighted laughter was interrupted by a sharp staccato 

burst of radio noise. "Hellstrike. Fahrenheit. I need you 

both in the Analysis Deck, now."   
  


"Ah, ballacks," Nigel groaned, neck lolling to nestle at 

the base of her throat. "Yer timing couldn't be better, 

Jackson. What the bloody hell do yeh want now?"   
  


The other man took a deep breath, irked at the insolence in 

Hellstrike's tone. "*Want*? I *want* the medical staff to 

figure out a way to get those creatures out of Molly and 

the rest of the survivors so we can take them out of 

cryogenic lockdown without killing them and releasing the 

damn things. I *want* out of these damn politics. I *want* 

permanent U.N. financing for StormWatch." He paused, 

finishing rather sheepishly. "But I'll settle for the two 

of you joining the rest of the team in Conference Room 

Twelve as soon as possible."   
  


Lauren frowned. "What's wrong, Jackson?" She sat up 

straighter, though one painted toenail still absently 

trailed up and down the area of electrified forcefield that 

defined Nigel's calf 'muscle'. "Has Code Perfect been 

invoked?"   
  


The Weatherman was silent a moment. "No, nothing like 

that."   
  


The tone of his voice gave her pause. Lauren swallowed, 

playful mood vanishing. She reached for her cast-off silver 

uniform, suddenly all business. "Are the aliens back?"   
  


Beside her, Nigel stiffened. StormWatch regularly faced 

monsters and demons of all varieties without flinching, but 

there had been something spectacularly sinister about the 

creatures that had so recently ripped SkyWatch apart. He 

glanced furtively at Lauren and scowled. If he hadn't come 

in just in time to fry that thing trying to grab her 

face...   
  


"NO!" Jackson assured them hurriedly. "No, nothing of the 

sort." His baritone voice deepened, as it often did when he 

was annoyed. "I'll explain when you get here. And I know 

it's asking a lot of the two of you, but please hurry the 

hell up. Winter, Flint and Fuji are already waiting on the 

Deck, most impatiently, might I add--"   
  


Nigel cast one last longing look at the warm bed and the 

warmer woman, then regretfully rose to don his uniform, arm 

snaking out to grab a new beer as he did so. He glared in 

Jackson's general direction, and words came pouring out in 

a rush.   
  


"Lissen here, wee lad, it waren't but two days ago them 

alien buggers yeh're talkin' about invaded our bleedin' 

*home*. In case yeh've forgotten, if Lauren, Nikolas an' I 

hadn't managed t' fry their overgrown cock-roach lookin' 

asses, we'd *all* be somebody's bloody breakfast right now, 

thank yeh very much. I think yeh can excuse us bein' a few 

friggin' minutes late."   
  


Their leader said nothing, just sighed. No one could sigh 

quite like Jackson King. Low, deep, longsuffering, his 

exhalations were legendary in their exhortative power. They 

were also totally lost on Nigel Keane.   
  


"What?!?" Nigel blurted. He sat down on the edge of the bed 

to slip on his boots. He tipped the bottle up and downed it 

in a few long gulps. "Yeh're tellin' me that we don't 

deserve just a little leeway after all the shit that's 

happened in the last few months?"   
  


Jackson's wince was almost audible. "I know, Nigel. Believe 

me, I know- but we've still got a job to do. The U.N. 

doesn't care if we've had a bad day- they just want 

results."   
  


Lauren, now fully clothed, climbed across the bed to 

embrace Nigel gently from behind, resting her cheek against 

his shoulder. He leaned into her. "Don't get your panties 

in a wad, Jackson. We're on our way."   
  


"Good. Weatherman out." The link went silent.   
  


Lauren made a face. She sat back in the bed, curling her 

legs underneath her. "Wonder what that was all about?"   
  


Nigel twisted on the edge of the bed to face her. "Don't 

know," he shrugged, tossing the now empty beer bottle on 

the floor to join a pile of its discarded brothers. "Guess 

we'll find out soon, though, won't we?"   
  


"Guess so," she answered absently, trying to finger-comb 

unruly hair into place. "I hope it's nothing serious. I was 

looking forward to some down time."   
  


"Really, now? I hadn't noticed." He teased, and was 

rewarded by her answering smile. He rose again, extending a 

hand to help her up. "Now come on, yeh wee temptress, 

before yeh make me ferget we've somewhere to be and get us 

both yelled at for bein' late again."   
  


_________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


Victoria Ojuku reclined in a uncomfortable conference 

chair, dark eyes fixed on an overhead clock. She sighed, 

and crossed and uncrossed her legs impatiently under the 

table before leaning forward to rest her elbows against its 

polished surface. Chin cradled in one hand, she stared 

glumly through a large glass window at the bustling figures 

moving around the Analysis Deck. 

The raised side conference room offered a wonderful view of 

the rest of the area. The Deck, and indeed the entire 

Orbital Platform, was full of people. Blue and black clad 

scientists swarmed around new equipment, testing, 

calibrating, ensuring that machinery replaced in the wake 

of StormWatch's battle with the recent alien marauders was 

functioning properly.   
  


"Those monsters tore this place apart," she murmured, 

fingers reflexively clenching at the memory of ripping them 

apart with her bare hands. One hand fluttered upwards and 

she gently touched her face.   
  


After two days, it still hurt. The acid alien blood had 

splashed all over her face and chest, and while the scars 

were rapidly fading from her supposedly invulnerable skin 

the memory would linger for quite a while longer.   
  


Apparently, she wasn't quite as invulnerable as everyone 

thought.   
  


The huge mountain of metal seated across the table from her 

nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. Horrible creatures." His 

mechanized voice was soft and strangely sad.   
  


Victoria looked up- way up- and studied the expressionless 

red mask of her teammate Fuji. She smiled, pearl white 

teeth gleaming against the darkness of her skin. "I don't 

know about you, Toshiro, but I'm ready to do *something*. 

All this inactivity is making me nervous."   
  


He inclined his head politely. "I think I rather enjoy the 

quiet," his mechanized voice murmured softly. "This," he 

waved his huge hand gracefully, "Is very troublesome to 

me."   
  


She tilted her head curiously. "What, new personnel?"   
  


Misawa shook his head, settling carefully back into the 

massive chair specially crafted for his use. It took up 

almost one entire side of the table. "No. . . the need for 

new personnel. I--" He broke off for a moment, then resumed 

in an even softer voice. "It pains me that we could not 

better protect Skywatch's crew. So many died in the attack. 

They were our responsibility, and we failed."   
  


Her eyes closed for a moment, then she reached across the 

empty seat between them to briefly rest her hand on his. 

Her hand, large for a woman's, was dwarfed by his huge 

silver gauntlet. "Still, Toshiro- we did what we could. 

SkyWatch is still here because we were finally able to pull 

together and defeat them."   
  


"I suppose you are right," Fuji murmured slowly, though 

Victoria still heard more than a trace of remorse in his 

synthesized voice. "Though my soul grieves for them, we 

must go on so that others will not share their fate."   
  


"Very true, Toshiro," Another voice sounded behind them, 

and they spun in unison as their field leader Nikolas 

Kamarov entered the room, a steaming glass of tea in his 

hand. Hellstrike and Fahrenheit followed right behind him.   
  


Victoria looked up and grinned. "Well, well. Look who the 

cat dragged in." She eyed her friend's disheveled hair and 

flushed skin and opened her mouth to make a comment, but 

thought better of it.   
  


"Hey, Vicky," Lauren greeted her friend cheerily, walking 

around the table to take a seat beside her. "Has Jackson 

shown up yet?"   
  


"Not yet," Victoria shook her head. "But I gathered he 

wanted to talk to us about something pretty important."   
  


Nigel took a seat beside her, turning his chair around to 

straddle it. "Aa, whatever it was, he needs to hurry up. 

I've got better things to be doin' with me time." He leered 

at Lauren, who just rolled her eyes.   
  


Nikolas took his seat at the far end of the table. He 

grimaced. "I'm not even going to ask. I'm *certain* we do 

not want to know."   
  


Victoria nodded emphatically, and Toshiro's huge frame 

shook slightly, his genteel version of laughter. Nigel 

fixed a teasingly baleful glare at him. "Laugh it up, ol' 

son, and I'll get them geniuses out there," a green index 

finger pointed at the Analysis Deck, "To figure out some 

way to stablize the floors to eliminate all vibrations. 

We'll see how yeh like *that*."   
  


Toshiro straightened immediately, but his rumbling voice 

still held a hint of amusement. "Please do not do that, 

Nigel. I will be good."   
  


Hellstrike nodded smugly and crossed his arms across the 

top of the chair. "Aa, that's what I thought."   
  


Lauren elbowed him in the ribs. "Quit teasing Toshiro, 

Nigel. It's not nice."   
  


Shaggy green eyebrows waggled in surprise. "HIM? *He's* the 

one that bloody well has an orgasm every five fraggin' 

minutes! He's the luckiest bastard I've ever met! Why do 

yeh all take up for him all the time?"   
  


Victoria leaned over the table and smiled sweetly. "Because 

he's not a human pig?"   
  


Nigel drew himself up indignantly. "I'll have yeh know pigs 

are fine animals. Very intelligent, pigs are."   
  


"I have always thought so," Toshiro added loyally.   
  


Biting back a comment of her own, Lauren instead scooted 

her chair backwards, extricating herself from the 

conversation. She rose quietly and walked over to the far 

end of the table.   
  


"Hey, Nikolas," she spoke softly so as not to disturb the 

banter. "Can I have a minute?"   
  


"Lauren," Winter inclined his head at his deputy leader. 

"Do you have something on your mind?"   
  


"You might say that," she nodded, crouching beside him. "Do 

you have any idea what Jackson wanted with us today? I have 

a weird feeling that there's more to this than he's letting 

on."   
  


He pursed his lips, and ice blue eyes narrowed 

thoughtfully. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. He 

mentioned to me something to me earlier about 'clearing up 

a mistake', but I have no idea what that meant."   
  


Almost on cue, the Weatherman's distinctive footsteps 

sounded, and he walked into the room. SkyWatch Executive 

Officer Christine Trelane was right behind, bright blonde 

hair a sharp counterpoint to the dark suits they both wore.   
  


Hellstrike spotted them first and leaned forward excitedly. 

"Ahah! Jackson, Christine! I need yeh to settle somethin' 

for us. We're havin' a bit of an argument, here-"   
  


"First time for everything," Christine murmured dryly, then 

took her seat at Toshiro's right side.   
  


Jackson's lips quirked in amusement, but he managed a gruff 

tone nonetheless. "This is an official meeting, Hellstrike. 

Whatever it is can wait."   
  


Fahrenheit and Winter exchanged a quick glance, then the 

former moved back to her place at the table. The rest of 

the team did likewise and the laughter faded as the team 

smoothly shifted into professional briefing mode.   
  


Jackson took his seat at the head of the table. He took a 

deep breath, scanning the faces at the table. His eyes 

rested on Christine, and her chin ducked slightly, a brief 

nod of encouragement.   
  


Jackson smiled faintly at her and began. "First of all, I 

want to commend all of you for your recent performance in 

saving Skywatch from the aliens. This was a prime display 

of just why the world needs StormWatch, and I'm proud of 

you all."   
  


"We were just doing our job," Winter murmured quietly, an 

edge of some unidentifiable emotion in his voice.   
  


"I know that," Jackson replied, and stood up to pace the 

room, arms clasped behind his back. "And you did it well. 

That's not why I've asked you here today."   
  


"*Asked*?" Nigel muttered, sotto voce. Lauren scowled and 

kicked him under the table.   
  


Jackson pretended not to notice. "You're here today because 

I'm considering a drastic course of action, and I want your 

imput before I make any final decisions." Feet spaced far 

apart as if expecting a blow, Jackson raised his chin and 

bluntly began.   
  


"All this," he motioned to the technicians refurbishing the 

deck, "Was almost destroyed because of one single mistake. 

I was careless, and my actions almost cost us the station. 

I don't want that happening again."   
  


The others were quiet, barely daring to breathe. Nikolas 

was still a moment, bright head bent as he considered the 

other man's words. "What happened here is not your fault," 

he murmured quietly. "You know that."   
  


Jackson's silver neural headset gleamed dully in the 

starlight. "That's where you're wrong, Winter," he 

corrected sharply. "As Weatherman, I'm responsible for 

*everything* that happens on this Station. That's why I 

called you here today."   
  


"What is this all about, then, *Weatherman*?" Nikolas asked 

quietly, his accented voice emphasizing the title.   
  


"Let me show you," the tall man sat back down, murmuring a 

sequence of commands into the metal headset cupping his 

ear. A bright holographic display sprang out of the table.   
  


The greenish image extended half the length of the table 

and several feet into the air. It showed a close up of a 

large viewscreen illuminated with flickering red light 

inside.   
  


"That's one of Molly's viewing ports, isn't it?" Lauren 

looked up and the display casted undulating crimson hues on 

her fair skin. "A lens made of altered atoms that lets us 

see into other worlds."   
  


Toshiro leaned down for a better view. "And that must be 

the Bleed. It is. . . beautiful."   
  


Jackson just nodded. "It is. In light of what happened on 

the parallel world, we thought it might be a good idea to 

have the techs keep a close eye on everything we can see 

through it."   
  


Nikolas' shoulders squared and he looked at Jackson, 

challenge in his eyes. Both men thought of their fierce 

argument regarding StormWatch's action- or inaction- to 

help that embattled world. "I take it something else has 

happened?"   
  


Jackson's expression darkened, and Christine quickly 

answered for him. "Well, that's the question. We probably 

would never have noticed it if we hadn't had to replace so 

much equipment on the station, but in all the 

recalibrations somebody noticed an interesting anamoly."   
  


"Please explain, Weatherman," Fuji intoned, hands resting 

lightly on his armored knees. "I am afraid I do not quite 

understand."   
  


Jackson looked haggard in the eerie red glow of the 

holographic image. "The Bleed has changed."   
  


"What?" Nigel pursed his lips, his detective's mind rapidly 

peicing together the scraps of information he'd gleaned 

about the topic. "I thought the Bleed was a void separating 

everything from everything else. Ain't it supposed to be a 

bloody *constant*, or somethin'?"   
  


"We *thought* so," Jackson answered slowly, crossing his 

arms over his chest. "All the evidence to date would seem 

to indicate that, yes."   
  


"What does this *mean*?" Lauren demanded, face turned 

upward towards the hypnotic flickers of light on the 

viewscreen.   
  


"It means," Nikolas' voice grew louder as he became more 

agitated. "That we may be in great danger. If there are 

fluctuations in the Bleed, it is very possible that all 

worlds- ours included- may be affected."   
  


Jackson nodded bleakly. "That's it, exactly. It's odd- none 

of the Earth 'scopes are turning up *anything*, but I've 

got three teams analyzing data from the Skywatch lens now. 

There's been no damage so far, but some of the data they're 

predicting-" He visibly repressed a shudder. "Catastrophic 

doesn't begin to cover it."   
  


Victoria twisted in her chair to face the Weatherman, 

elegant features creased in concen. "What can we do about 

this, Jackson?"   
  


The dark man drew himself up to his full height and looked 

directly at Nikolas. "StormWatch was formed to save lives. 

If there's a possiblity that we can do something about it, 

we should."   
  


The former Spetznaz officer stared the other man for a long 

moment, then his expression softened. "The Weatherman is 

correct." This time there was no hint of mockery in the 

tone. "We must do something."   
  


"Agreed, but what?" Fahrenheit looked at both men in turn. 

"You've got to admit, this isn't exactly our standard 

scenario, if there is any such thing. You didn't answer 

Vicky's question, Weatherman. What can we do about 

something like this?"   
  


Jackson met her direct gaze. "Not so long ago Winter 

suggested crossing the Bleed to give aid to Jack 

Hawksmoor's StormWatch. We-" He caught himself. "*I* 

decided that was too dangerous, too risky." He looked down, 

then up again. "It was a mistake. People died because I 

wasn't willing to take that risk."   
  


"Jackson," Christine extended a slender hand toward him, 

but he cut her off abruptly.   
  


"No, let me finish." He looked up and down the table. "Like 

I said, StormWatch was formed to save lives. If that means 

taking risks, so be it." His eyes fixed on Fahrenheit. 

"Lauren, you were right. This *isn't* the kind of mission 

StormWatch was formed for, the kind of thing you're even 

remotely prepared to do." He turned to address them all. 

"But there's nobody else to do the job."   
  


One hand fell flat against the table. "I may be premature 

in this. The fluctuation may be harmless- hell, for all we 

know at this point it may be normal for the Bleed."   
  


"I'm gettin' thirsty, Jackson, get to th' point," Nigel 

interrupted ungently.   
  


Jackson pursed his lips wryly. "All right. I called you all 

together today for this. If something *is* wrong with the 

Bleed and we can't solve it from here, I'm considering the 

possibility of sending some or all of you into it, and I 

don't know what the consequences of something like that 

would be."   
  


There was a long pause while the members of the team 

collected their respective thoughts.   
  


"Is that all?" Nigel asked suspiciously, putting aside 

natural feelings of trepidation. "Yeh might be sending us 

somewhere we might not come back from? Since when is that 

something new? This job ain't exactly sellin' insurance, 

Weatherman."   
  


Nikolas beamed, pleased with the decision. "We will go 

wherever the need is, Weatherman. If you think that is in 

the Bleed, then that is where we'll go." 

"Don't take this lightly," The Weatherman warned, both 

hands now pressed flat against the table. "I'm telling you 

now. This won't be like any other mission you've ever been 

on. If any of you decide not to accept it, I won't hold it 

against you."   
  


Lauren paused, then made her decision. "You said it before, 

Jackson. This job is about saving lives. If we can do that 

on a grand scale- well, then, all the better." She rose 

from her chair, resting her hands lightly along its back.   
  


Victoria followed suit, dark eyes full of meaning. "I'm 

in."   
  


Fuji rose out of his chair and bowed slightly. "It would be 

the greatest honor of my life to do this thing you ask."   
  


Jackson studied them carefully. "You're all sure about 

this?"   
  


Nigel rose, yawning. "Sure, we're sure. Now is that all? 

Are we done here?"   
  


Jackson looked at Christine, who just chuckled. "I suppose 

so," he snorted, a bit bewildered. "You can go."   
  


Nikolas rose last of all and walked over to the Weatherman. 

He didn't say a word, only rested his hand briefly on the 

other man's shoulder approvingly before moving towards the 

doorway.   
  


His teammates followed one by one, murmuring amongst 

themselves as they left. 

"Aa, all this talking's made me thirsty. Anyone want to hit 

the pubs tonight?"   
  


"Breathing makes you thirsty, Nigel."   
  


"That ain't all that makes me thirsty, lass."   
  


"Ni-gel..."   
  


"What about you, Nick? How does Clark's sound tonight?"   
  


"That is an excellent idea, old friend."   
  


"Although I cannot imbibe, I too would enjoy the 

camaraderie of joining you at your drinking establishment."   
  


"Glad t' hear it, Toshiro. Maybe yeh an' me can beat up 

some young punks just for good measure."   
  


"Hey, Lauren, while they're doing that how about you and I 

swing by a few clubs and maybe pick up a few guys for old 

times sake?"   
  


"I don't fraggin' *think* so, Ojuku-"   
  
  
  


Their voices faded away and Jackson King, Weatherman, 

watched them go. Christine walked behind him, resting her 

hands on his shoulders. She slowly began to knead the 

bunched muscles.   
  


"Well, well. That went a hell of a lot better than you 

thought it would." She grinned. "I'm not the kind to say 'I 

told you so'-"   
  


"Yes, you are," He murmured, grunting as her fingers found 

a particularly sore spot.   
  


"Maybe I am, at that," she smiled softly. "Jackson, what 

did you expect? You're a good Weatherman- more importantly, 

you're a good *man*. I know that, and they know it, too." 

She leaned forward, and strands of blonde hair tickled his 

cheek. "They trust you, even if you're having trouble 

trusting yourself right now."   
  


"Maybe they do, at that," he allowed himself a small smile, 

and reached back to take her in his arms. Laughing, she 

took him by the hand instead and led him out of the dark 

room into the bustle of the Analysis Deck.   
  
  
  


Alone in the dark room, the holographic display of the 

Bleed flickered crimson long into the night.   
  
  
  


=====   
  


-DuAnn   
  
  
  


Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the 

world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be 

troubled and do not be afraid. 

-John 14:27 


End file.
